


To Be Treasured

by Dragoncounsel121



Category: GOT7
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brainwashing, Crossdressing, Delusions, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Half-Sibling Incest, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Mental Disintegration, Mind Break, Overstimulation, Prostate Milking, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, torture tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-03-05 06:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoncounsel121/pseuds/Dragoncounsel121
Summary: The Crown Prince does not fear much, does not want muchBut may heaven protect what lies at the crux of both those things.**Warning**: rape fantasy. Please don't come this way if it's not your thing.





	1. Just Are the Strong

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Some bad bad stuff lying ahead. I want to make it clear, this is a toxic mind-break fantasy that should only be indulged in as a thought experiment even if you're into this kind of thing. Like not even normal mentions of being consensual I cannot stress enough that, in this case that is not a thing.

The third prince is a fairy child, some celestial fruit his mother picked and raised for the joy of the imperial palace. He's mastered all his venerable arts during his tenderest years, extols kindness upon kindness from his delicate heart, walks like his feet but skim the ground. He is the pearl in his father's eye and the secret love of every courtier who has ever crossed the palace gate.

Even when he draws the ire of powerful people, he is bound not by rope or iron, but silk, so as not to mark his delicate skin. The guards who hold him at heel do so with a gentle touch, so very mindful of bruising his petal-soft skin.

"Your Majesty?" He gasps, sharp and sweet like cool water in one's throat.

On his throne, even the surly and scowling crown prince could not remain unaffected. The light shifts in the crown prince's eyes for just a second before his scowl reasserts itself.

"So you still acknowledge me as such?" He says lazily, "You did not seem to when you colluded with the Former Minister of the Royal Treasury. Where does the third prince find this lack of obeisance?"

"This...this one did not..." The guards' hands grow slack on his shoulders but the third prince makes no move to escape. He crumples in their grip.

"Be that as it may," the crown prince decrees, "I will not allow a member of this court to consort with traitors and thieves, not even you, my little fairy. But I am not unkind. I believe in my heart that you instigated no harm, your punishment shall be only a cautionary measure to remind our third prince to better choose his friends."

"Your Majesty! Hyung! Jaebeom-hyung please!" Even his cries are honey sweet, heartbreaking. "This one is sorry. Jinyoung is....Jinyoung is sorry,"

But the crown prince is unmoved. He bids the guards away and summons other softer-handed servants bearing bowls and water and the gentlest cleaning cloths.

"Let this be a lesson little fairy. It will be over soon" he says softly even kindly to the third prince. That done his sharp gaze levels at the servants, brows drawn and strict, "Milk him. I will punish any who leaves a mark, but bearing that, wring him dry."

It is the ultimate humiliation, an act that forces one's body against one's own nature, that crumbles the pride and attacks the character. The young prince's robes are sliced through, systematically shredded from his body around his bonds for he would not be allowed that dignity. The crown prince freezes on his throne when the servants oil their hands and hold the third prince's legs apart. He moves forward as they are about to touch the flowering bud between the young prince's thighs but, biting his lips barely growls. "Be gentle."

The servants do not scoff, but it's a near thing. They are trained for the softness of their hands; the punishment is not about pain. They cannot be any less than gentle, the crown prince knows this.

The third prince cries still as the servants open him up. Even with the softest fingers, he is sensitive, a lush delicate boy whose body has never known hardship. It takes coaxing to open him, a gentle hand stroking his member to hardness and slow but deep circular motions of thumbs that pries his pink bud open little by little until he flowers and shows them his rosy shame.

And then there is no mercy.

The third prince squeals as long slick fingers breach his body. Unfamiliar electricity wracks up his spine. He can't tell if he loves it or hates it, but he knows enough to know it is wrong. As with all things strange and threatening, he fights it at first, muscles struggling automatically against his silken bonds, fear washing out any other sense from his head. His first orgasm sneaks up on him before he knows it. He doesn't even have the breath to cry out, gasping for air as the white-hot pleasure rips through his body and seed bursts from the tip of his blushing member. The oiled hand that handles his hardness guides the release into a large jade bowl.

The second is even worse, worked relentlessly over his screaming nerves like hot coals being raked in the pit of his stomach and the base of his flushed cock.

It's a long process, all the more arduous for as virile a young man as the third prince. He goes from thrashing to crying to begging desperately through his tears. In time, the unholy pleasure takes him over and breaks his spirit into a moaning whimpering mess. But his body can handle more, and so it does. Climax after climax, the jade bowl slowly fills.

The crown prince never looks away, not until the releases of his fairy brother runs thin and clear, every drop of milky seed long wrung out of him. Even then, he only commands his servants to let the third prince go and withdraw. The young man drops through the ground almost into his own releases if it weren't for one sympathetic servant catching him and laying him down beside the barely filled bowl. Kindness done, they disappeared soundlessly, leaving him alone beneath the machinations of his half brother. Powerless, he shields his eyes behind tear-heavy lashes and waits.

He does not expect the feeling of fingers threading gently through his hair, skimming his scalp in a gesture so affectionate it makes him shiver. The crown prince pets him softly, humming bars that seem stolen from many different songs. The third prince's body betrays him, leaning into the kind touch even as the young prince's heart aches with deep cold fear.

"Truly, you are a fairy child," the crown prince mutters as he pulls the broken boy into his lap, "for what human tears can be so lovely?"

Lips press against the tender skin at the base of his neck, where the silken chord dents only slightly into flesh, just enough to be felt and present and remind the young prince that - should his paranoid brother but wish it so - he would lose his pretty head.

"I believe in your innocence."

The crown prince presses his words into his younger brother's skin. His hand runs over the pale milky flesh in touches that were almost mockingly chaste, tracing the lines of his back and arms, kissing his hands and face, kissing away his tears.

"And it is because I believe in your innocence - because I cannot bear you to fail me - that your esteemed brother must not spare the rod now."

The words flow over the young prince, but the tones of his brother swathe him gently, dulling his aches and lulling him into a soft haze. Tired, he snuggles into the embrace, comforted by the single glimmer of familiarity in a body that now feels so strange and alien to him. He doesn't resist as he's rearranged this way and that. He doesn't resist when a hard fleshy shaft slides slowly into his loose tired body. It's one more strange thing he has no ability to recognize.

He groans and buries further into the crown prince's arms, consoling himself with the kisses planted on his forehead and the fingers stroking his cheeks.

The intrusion is not painful. There's even a peculiar rightness to the way it fits so easily so readily and then stops like it belongs there, a hot pulsing pressure against his aching walls. Fingers slick with white trail over his skin lower and lower until it reaches the place where the young prince's little flower had bloom fully, his petals pulled tight around the member inside him. They massage him gently as the member begins to move, sliding against his overtaxed muscles as they take more and more friction.

The young prince whimpers as warmth builds inside him, like one of the heated massages he loves from his private bathhouse masseuse for his sore insides. What little discomfort there had been when the shaft began to change angles settles into a comforting burn. His muscles tense up, only for the insistent pressure to forcibly relax them. The back and forth tugs deliciously at his nerves and he moans and snuggles against his honored brother's chest, hoping the crown prince will spoil him a bit longer just like this.

Through his haze, pleasure cuts through his body, sharp and keen. Immediately, his body tightens up as he throws his head back and _screams_.

"There it is," the crown prince whispers into his throat, "do you like it?"

The sensation - so bright so good it hurts - ravages his body. It's too much. Vaguely he imagines a firework bursting inside him the sparks, the burns, the colors. It's exquisite this new undefinable level of pleasure. _Yes_ , he likes it. _Yes_ , he _loves_ it.

"I had thought you would," the crown prince coos punctuating every word with another thrust searing his crying brother's pleasure gland, "because Third Brother is a fairy child. How can base human pleasures be enough? This esteemed brother has troubled greatly to find treatment fitting for a flower so divine."

The hand that massaged the tender flesh of young prince's ass came to knead and fondle at his limp cock and unfilled sacs. Having forgotten them til now, the young prince weeps as the same searing pleasure pain spreads to his sensitive organs wherever the searching fingers touch. His flaccid member barely twitches too spent to react.

But he _wants_ it.

He _accepts_ it.

 

-o-

 

The crown prince purrs, delighted at just how broken his precious fairy has become. He fondles and strokes, watching the organs grow redder and redder under his attention, barely noticing his own hips picking up pace inside his sobbing brother. Sometimes he leaves the poor abused cock and wanders up to pluck at the plump berries of his little fairy's nipples, to hear the warbling cries change pitch and volume. What human could be so perfect, so lovely and wet and velvet soft inside and so pretty when played and toyed with outside? Truly, he must be a celestial treasure, gifted to their empire - to its devoted heirs - by the will of heaven.

He doesn't anticipate the young prince's body seizing, tightening impossibly around his own cock, and wrangling a growl out of his throat. Feeling too close to his climax, he grits his teeth and withdraws earning a desperate sob from the little fairy in his lap. Turning his fairy brother around, he lays the writhing boy down once more, lets him splay himself across the wooden floorboards. His eyes are unseeing above his red gasping mouth. For the first time, the crown prince sees just how gone his little fairy has become, expression empty and legs spread, his soft petals fluttering even with nothing to cling to. His body is rigid. His back arches as he throws his head back and screams once more, every part but one in the throes of yet one more orgasm.

His cock did not respond, remaining soft and dry, and the crown prince is fascinated.

His little fairy has just cum dry. His little fairy can _cum **dry**_.

The crown prince laughs softly as he tests the little crimson flower with his fingers. It blooms open for him and clings to his fingers as he pets it.

Not even in the most lascivious of texts did the crown prince read that this was possible. How many lovely possibilities lay before them now?

The mere thought is a devil to his senses and the too finds his climax unawares, only a few thrusts after he re-entered his little fairy's beautiful body.

For a long while, he is content to draw his little fairy's prone form to his chest. The boy's soft skin is yet unblemished and warm against his own. But the longer the crown prince remains, the more a hidden part of him sneers at their unsightly disarray, not only for himself and his own stature but for the child of heaven who slept quietly in his arms. So slowly, he gathers them up and, trudges to his bedchambers, clear of servants for the night for exactly this purpose.

Quietly, he lights the brass brazier in his bathing room to heat the prepared water and gently washes away all the traces of his little fairy's punishment. Opening his wardrobe, he procures sleeping robes of the softest silks and feather down to wrap his precious treasure in. Retiring them both to bed, he spends the rest of the night brushing chaste innocent kisses over the sleeping boy's face and hair, fighting off every second of his own weariness. 


	2. In the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When outsiders have it wrong basically the whole time
> 
> Once again 
> 
> WARNING: some messed up mental bullshit, don't ever try this in any context ever. I'm not even sure the sex toys work like that. Practice safe, sane, and non-manipulative sex please

The Imperial Palace as a whole breathed a sigh of relief when, after ten days, the third prince remerged, looking none the worse for wear.

 

It seemed like, no matter how ill-tempered nor paranoid their crown prince might be, even he is still yet to gain enough power to murder the sick emperor’s favorite son. It is good to know he could still be reasoned with. Yet a wholly new threat greeted them now. Just how powerful has the third prince gotten that even the heir to the throne dare not harm him?

 

For he truly left the crown prince’s compounds untouched - chastised, perhaps the slightest bit ashen, all quite natural for a youth with such delicate constitution - but as fair and unmarked as he always had been, even the unusual paleness flushes back to health after a few filling meals and cups of medicinal tea. Otherwise, he is as coquettish and congenial as always, a joy and benefactor to everyone he meets.

 

And if even the crown prince could not stand against his brother’s pleading eyes, how could the emperor who has always looked lovingly at the child, and in his old age, becomes all the more lavishly indulgent of him every day? As relieved as they are, every courtier shrinks back with bated breath to watch for the next sign of power shift, the fools

 

The third prince’s smile falters as he says good-bye to the day’s last well-wisher and retires to his quarters. He hasn't had a moment alone all day and the constant scrutiny prickles unpleasantly upon his skin. The sudden lack of it feels like a weight falling off his shoulders. He proceeds to shed his robes in the same manner until the manny silken layers lie on a heap on the floor for the servants to contend with later. In their place, he dons a simple inner robe of white cotton and waits

 

It isn’t long before a messenger knocks quietly upon his inner chamber doors. The messenger says nothing, only procuring for him a simple servants’ robe of undyed linen to put on over his inner robes

 

Quietly the messenger leads him to the servant passages that run throughout the palace and conducts him through the labyrinthian walkways to the other side of the royal apartments. They emerge in a small but richly furnished private room with only a single door and window

 

Sitting at the lone table with all the implements of tea-making, the crown prince has his hands folded patiently on his knees as if he is conducting an official court hearing  

The crown prince dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand, before regaling the third prince with heavy gaze, “There you are my little fairy. Do not tarry, I’ve been waiting. 

 

“Yes, your majesty, Jinyoung is sorry.” The third prince shivers beneath the acknowledgment. “This one will prepare himself.”

 

Tucking himself behind the painted silk screen set up in the corner, the third prince releases his hair from its knot and unties both the servants’ robe and his own inner robes, hanging them on the screen. In their place, he slips into a thin slip of sheer silk gauze of an innocent shade of peach pink that went well with the flush of his skin. This one is without accompanying ties or belts, left instead to fall open and frame his naked flesh. It does nothing to hide the many red silk cords that sway gracefully between his legs with each movement, making the boy look like an expensive tassel, ready for hanging on a pretty sash or hairpin. He places his feet into specially made embroidered slippers that lift the arches of his delicate feet to make them look smaller and more maidenly, transferring his weight to unsteady toes and making him wobble as he walks.

 

The young prince teeters precariously from behind the silk screen to present himself to his brother

 

The crown prince’s eyes gleam in the dim light and a smile touches the corner of his severe mouth. He curls one hand, beckoning the younger prince to his side

 

“It suits you,” the crown prince whispers, his warm hands pet one of the milky thighs through the delicate fabric, “such a pretty creature deserves pretty things.”

 

“T-this one humbly thanks your majesty.” The third prince bows as low as he could with his precarious balances. When the crown prince lets him go, he hobbles around the table to prepare the tea, whimpering with every step, listening to the crown prince take deeper and deeper breaths

 

As they waited for the tea to steep, the crown prince pulls the younger boy into his lap. Gently he pets the silky hair that falls down the third prince’s back like a waterfall of ink and tucks his nose into the boy’s elegant neck to breathe in the sweetness of his skin. The young prince squirms on his lap unable to get comfortable, and the crown prince smiles. He trails his fingers slowly down the milky skin until they dip between his young brother’s full trembling thighs to the quivering bud that housed the ten cords of crimson silk, one for every year since the third prince presented himself to court, since the crown prince first laid eyes on such inhuman beauty.

 

He tugs gently on one, shifting the others and making the third prince’s fine smooth nails dig into his shoulders and works it out until the round bead of purple jade stretches his little fairy’s pretty bud open. He then lets go, lets the twitching muscle pull it back in to rattle the other nine inside the young prince’s body. With his face buried into the elegant throat, he can feel the sharp cry rumble up from his fairy brother’s chest. His hand follows to knead at the full flesh, forcing them to churn and roil against the lovely boy’s sensitive insides. With abject fascination, he watches the young prince’s blushing cock rise as it fills and stiffens. He wraps a hand around it, petting the hot flesh and teasing the red tip until it weeps translucent tears that match the one beginning to bead in the young prince’s eyes.

 

“Look how full you are, little fairy,” he coos, “you really haven’t relieved yourself all day, have you?”

 

Of course, he couldn’t, not with every eye in court upon him, not when fear and shame coil so tightly around the beads keeping his rosy insides stretched and soft.

 

“You are more than due for a milking. Since you have been such an obedient thing today, little fairy, I will allow you to choose. Do you want the servants called in?”

 

The young prince shakes his head furiously, a few tears falling from his lashes. He can’t handle so many strange eyes yet, not so soon after escaping the vulture eyes of the court, not when his inner walls ache so badly from the hard impersonal touch of jade.

 

“Then this esteemed brother shall care for you on his own.”

 

The crown prince smiles and comforts him with kisses all over his delicate jawline and shoulders, everywhere the crown prince could reach while the third prince quivered on his lap

 

“Pour the tea little fairy, and fetch the necessaries,” he commanded.

 

“Yes, y-your majesty.”

 

Slowly the third prince stumbles back onto his arched slippers and hobbles first across the table to pour the fragrant tea into dainty porcelain cups that he then presented to his brother. Then across the room to a wardrobe of polished cherry wood to fetch the jade bowl he has become so familiar with in his 10 days under his brother’s care. Upon returning with the bowl the young prince almost falls over, would have if his brother’s strong hands did not catch him firmly as he cums hard all over the floor and making a mess of his pretty robes and shoes.

 

“You were doing so well little fairy,” the crown prince clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, “I had thought I would not have to punish you tonight.”

 

Sobbing with shame, the young prince clings to his brother’s sleeves like a child

 

“This one is sorry,” he begs through his hiccups, “Jinyoung is - Jinyoung did not mean to. This one will be no more trouble.”

 

The crown prince pets him softly, running affectionate hands through his hair, down his neck and back, murmuring consolations into them. But that changes nothing, whether he had meant it or not, the young prince, being disobedient, must be punished.

 

“You will suffer the beads, precious one, all through your milking,” the crown prince says, “if you can bear with them and still fill the bowl, you shall be free of them at last. If you do not, then you shall wear them for another day. You shall learn to please me, little fairy, you must.”

 

Thus the crown prince unwraps the ruined robes from his fairy brother’s body and throws them aside. He places the bowl at the base of the low table and props the crying boy against it, still petting his perfumed hair. 

 

The touch of his doting brother is so very different from the cold and dispassionate hands of servants. The crown prince begins with kisses, warm and gentle and comforting, all along the third prince’s spine before slowly teasing the berry red nipples with the faintest edge of his nails. Pressed up tight against his chest, the third prince could feel the hard line of his brother’s own cock through the many layers of fine fabric. Despite his warbling voice, he croons with pride. Kindly, his brother presses more oils into him with firm fingers, makes him wetter and ease the aching muscles raw and oversensitive from nothing but the caress of stone for hours and hours. 

 

When the crown prince’s attention finally returns to his member, the third prince is once more ready, his flushed cock hanging heavy but limp between his legs. He moans with relief when it is touched

 

Unlike before, his brother does not wrap a hand around it, knowing that he couldn’t take it just yet. He would cum too soon, too painfully. Instead, he is allowed room to breathe as fingertips trailed idly over the base of the sensitive member, more often playing with the thick dark hair that curls around the base of it. 

 

Slowly the young prince recovers, his cock hardening once more, filling with milky seed. Likewise, the crown prince’s hand moves up his needy cock, tracing the veins up his shaft and teasing the head, rolling the callused pads of sword-worn fingers over his sensitive slit. The young prince mews with delight.

 

Immediately, a litany of praise is murmured into his ears, telling him how pretty he is, how responsive and obedient. They wash over him like a warm bath, filling in what few crevices remain in their taboo embrace. 

 

The young prince presses back into it when he cums...and hisses as the pressure jams the jade beads against the aching pleasure gland inside him. With every motion, they roll unforgivingly against him. They make everything sharper, more present more insistent, refusing to let him succumb to the lovely pleasure haze the young prince’s body associates with his daily milkings. 

 

He cries,  winding back for a second, to the first night when every drag of fingers against the bright jewel inside him had been wrong and unnatural, for a second, his body stiffens and fights against the feeling, making the sensations worse. 

 

But this time he is soothed with kisses to his throat, hands petting his sensitive cock, his shivering thighs and belly. His brother’s mouth moves from his throat to his ear, engulfing it with warm wet lips and running the barest hint of teeth along the shell of it. 

 

And the young prince settles, plied which such affection he calms and lets go and cums again where he is directed. The strangeness, the sharpness, doesn’t go away. It would take much more - weeks and months - before the young prince will happily accept the touch of jade. But he lets go. He shoos his terror away and relaxes. He leans into the wonderful hands petting him so nicely and he cums obediently where his brother directs him.

 

Bit by bit the jade bowl fills. 

 

His brother hums into his hair, and he can only hope that the older prince is pleased. That he might be persuaded to spend his night spoiling his little fairy with mouth and fingers and cock instead of cold toys that pale in comparison.

 

And perhaps it’s because his venerated brother was pleased, or perhaps even, that because it is indeed the crown prince who handles him so carefully that night. By the time the third prince’s releases ran thin, clear and without the musky taint of seed, the crown prince declared the jade bowl filled and set it aside. 

 

By then the third prince has collapsed against the cherry wood table, warmed from his skin. His limbs had given out long ago and now he lay splayed out and loose like a well-used doll. The crown prince plants kisses all down his spine, the swoop and dip of it still impossibly elegant despite his position. Softly, he coaxed the limp body to turn until the fairy child faces him, eyes brimming and glassy, dancing with golden candlelight.

 

“h-hyung,” the young prince whimpers shakily, reverting to the childlike honorific in a moment of forgetfulness, “hyung, please. B-beads.”

 

Because they were still there, pressing relentlessly into his sensitive inner walls, and he can't handle them like this. He can't.

 

“Oh, Jinyoungie.” The crown prince’s breath is warm on his cheek, and his touch is indulgent, luxurious as he strokes the fine hairs that stray over the boy's sweaty forehead. The third prince whimpers more because it's been  _ so long _ .“of course, of course, my little fairy, you've done so well. You were so good, so obedient.”

 

Hands parted his quivering thighs, digging into the flesh just barely short of bruising force as they lifted the young prince onto the table, pushing the tea set aside and sending more than one piece of priceless porcelain clattering over. 

 

Gentle fingers slip down between the swells of his ass and part them to find the waiting flower spread with the deep red stamens. Searching fingertips press at the quivering bud, tugging at the petals until they open. They unfurl easily, much better trained now than when he was first milked. The first cord tugs. The first bead shifts, disturbing its neighbors as it works itself free. The young prince bites his lips on a groan. Hushing his fairy brother, the crown prince works two fingers and a thumb inside his fairy brother, making the oversensitive boy cry even worse.

 

He kisses the third prince’s tailbone in apology, a faint regret settling in now at how uncomfortable the young prince seemed. Perhaps this has been too far, too soon.

 

One by one, the beads were coaxed out of the young prince’s overtaxed body, each the size of a man's thumb. The first few are difficult, the crown prince had to press deeply, to get his fingers around the little orbs and work them free. After them, most came out easily, from a combination of careful tugging on their cords, and gentle stirring of the fingers. With each bead that pushes apart his petals to pop free, the young prince sobs. 

 

Even when the last bead pops free, the fingers don't stop. Instead, a fourth digit presses in along the ones already there, easy coaxing turning into long languid strokes. But they're still so much better than the beads, warm and soft and they're  _ his hyung’s  _ fingers, and for that alone he wants them, both inside him and - when the digits were satisfied - as they press into his mouth to stroke his pretty pink tongue and the sensitive walls of his cheeks, filling his head with the scent of fragrant oils and heady sex. 

 

“You really are soft all over, aren't you, pet?” The crown prince hums as he touches. His voice comes out faint and dreamlike, and the young prince lets it sink in through his skin. “Your mouth, your body, is it not a shame I must treat you with such rough hands?”

 

The young prince gasps as the smooth touch of silk suddenly runs up his inner thigh, a rare clean swath of the delicate maiden’s robe he soiled earlier. 

 

“You like that, don't you, little fairy?” The crown prince coos. “Should your hyung buy you a pretty ribbon for your pretty cock? Just imagine how that would feel as I milk you through it. Ah, but it'll be harder to fill your little bowl, won't it? You're already having so much trouble.”

 

The young prince nods and sighs without understanding, long ago charmed to hopelessness by his brother's breathy husky murmurs. He doesn't notice when the barrier of clothing between them disappears completely. 

 

Only, he is suddenly wrapped tight and warm inside strong arms, sculpted with hard-worn muscles. They turn him over without effort, and then the tire prince is suddenly inches from his brother's face, so close they share breaths. The cock that slides into his body is familiar, and full, and comforting. 

 

Tonight he is fucked slowly, in long careful strokes that slide neatly into place, his brother's member a burning hot brand searing its mark into him. His petals cling to it, pulling the hot flesh inside to its root. The euphoria that results has become an old friend whose arrival is heralded by pleasure unparalleled flaring to life, only heightened by the brilliant sparks of pain that dances lazily with it like a fiercely lovely beast.

 

It's beautiful. It's so beautiful he wants to sing, so beautiful he wants to dance, to scream, to kiss someone and shriek ‘I love you’. 

 

There's a sound above him, a cross between a sob and a groan. For a moment the young prince thinks it's him. 

 

But a mouth that had been muttering nice deep sweet sounds into his ears fall silent, and the cock tugging at his tender walls slows and comes to a stop just where he's all the way full.

 

Frustrated, his lashes flutter just in time to catch a glimpse of the crown prince leaning in to capture his lips. The first kiss was hesitant, a ghostly suggestion of lips over the third prince’s own. The second pressed in  _ hard _ , sharp with teeth in its haste. It came with a wet tongue licking greedily into the young prince's mouth, tasting his tongue and the pillowy insides of his cheeks until saliva dripped from their sloppy mouths. 

 

It was nice. 

 

It was nice but the young prince was full and needy, and he wants all of him to be pampered. So he sucks on the tongue in his mouth and he squeezes down on the cock inside him and he tries his best to grind his tired hips. 

 

There was that sound again, and the young prince isn't sure why it makes him ache inside. 

 

He's picked up and dragged forward into a warm board chest. Heart still bleeding from the pitiful little sound, he snuggles into the crown prince's shoulder for comfort even as he slides further onto his brother's throbbing cock. 

 

The third kiss is warm and full, a foreword.

 

And then he is  _ pounded _ . The third prince squeals as the hot shaft pistons into him at a bruising pace. The strong arms bounce him over gyrating hips. Like this, held up only the fierce grace of the man beneath him, the young prince feels oddly detached. Even when his body is submerged in such ravaging pleasure, some part of his foggy mind watches placidly, as if he himself was just a pretty silk pillow for the crown prince to rut into. He feels beautiful enough.

 

He moans as his hyung’s orgasm is buried so deep inside him it shudders through his own body. The crown price keeps fucking him through it, only pulling out when his cock is truly flaccid and then replacing it with those wonderful fingers again, tugging and massaging his loose petals. 

 

Under those fingers, his body is forced over the edge, fighting desperately to release what it no longer has.

 

All the while his hyung viciously claimed his mouth with tongue and teeth.

 

The little prince falls unconscious, more deeply sated than he has ever been.

 

He is woken by the gentlest of fingers stroking his cheek and carding into his hair. Everything is warm and soft. Water smooth silks and luxurious fur delight his delicate skin and aching body. He's pressed against a firmly muscled but yielding chest. 

 

He groans quietly, snuggling into the warmth, chasing the fog of sleep still lingering over his mind.

 

A quiet chuckle caresses his ear.

 

“Willful child,” warm lips brush against his cheek, “awaken my little fairy. You need to return soon.”

 

It is still dark when his eyes blink open, the cozy little room, lit only by the barest sliver of moon pouring in the high window. The crown prince’s face hovers over him, his handsome features soft with darkness. Strong arms cradle him, lifting them both to sit up in bed.

 

The young prince whimpers as a deep pounding ache lodges itself at the base of his spine. He tips forward, boneless, into his brother’s shoulder. The crown prince’s sword calloused hands immediately thread through his raven hair, stroking and petting. A thousand apologies whisper into his forehead and despite the pain, he indulges himself in the coddling.

 

With many more kisses and pets, the crown prince wraps the younger boy in a fine silk inner robe before - with a sigh - pulling the coarse servants robe closed to hide it. It is those same venerated hands that patiently comb the tangles out of the third prince’s hair and tie it up in a simple knot with rough twine, not unfitting for their ruse.

 

The young prince leans into every touch, lets them linger even as the barest hint of rose began to touch the horizon.

 

“Even like this, you are oh so lovely,” the crown prince murmurs with a broken smile, “If only your esteemed brother could sweep you up and wed you for his own. You would be the jewel of his household.” 

 

“If it is as your majesty...” The third prince is stopped by a thumb at his lips. Immediately he falls silent. Waiting for his brother to speak.

 

But the crown prince says no more. Gingerly, with the softest of fingertips, he cradles his fairy brother’s face and tilts him up for a tender morning kiss that steals the younger boy’s breath away.

 

It’s not until the third prince is shut out in the servant’s corridor with only the same messenger to conduct him, that the dream begins to fade.


	3. Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gaslighting and manipulation. Once again, let me stress that this is NOT OKAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE!!!!
> 
> Too much indulgence is in itself a chain. Sanity is but a fluttering candle in the wind, when humans truly wish to delude themselves.

The third prince sits straight and serene as his hands gracefully pluck the silk strings of a beautiful redwood gayageum as if the golden peony inlays on the polished instrument were alive and he didn't want to damage them. The delicate score he plays dances through the air like a butterfly fluttering against one's ear. 

It is one of the few pleasures left to the bed-ridden old emperor. 

When the last note fades into polite but genuine applause, the emperor summons the third prince from his zither to kneel before him.

“Ah, our little Jinyoung, truly you are the jewel of this father’s waning days.” His bony fingers gently stroke the young prince's head, smoothing over shining obsidian hair. The third prince is the only man in court allowed to go without a headdress in the emperor's presence. The emperor himself had declared that the third prince's hair was a gift from the gods, and it would be blasphemous to cover such a gift and not appreciate it. “How do you like your present?”

“This humble son cannot be grateful enough for His Majesty’s esteem.” The third prince even bows like a fairy, fingertips pointed delicately inwards and spine gracefully arched.

At his own seat, the surly crown prince seethes with envy so palpable that more than one courtier averted their eyes. It’s old news that the relationship between the emperor and his heir is rocky, and they are unwilling to put themselves in the crown prince’s warpath.

The crown prince pays them no mind, his eyes glued to the gnarled old paw stroking his beautiful brother's hair. 

He despises it.

Not long after, the crown prince has a large traditional gayageum made, a dark instrument shining with black lacquer, inlaid with silver plum blossoms on golden branches. It’s denser horsehair strings resonate when plucked, ringing clear across the courtyard where the crown prince presents it for the first and only time. Unlike the delicate murmur of the third prince’s seven-stringed affair, the crown prince’s twelve stringed zither sings clearly and passionately under its master's expert hand. Truly, it is a prized instrument, the envy of all the world. Even the most thick-faced courtier cannot say the third prince’s peony gayageum was in any way its superior.

They trip over the hems of their robes to praise and flatter it.

After that single presentation in the palace’s main courtyard however, the crown prince places the lovely gayageum on a specially crafted stand in his chambers never to be brought into the public eye again. 

It is a crime against the arts, the courtiers mutter amongst themselves as they shake their heads, that an instrument so beautiful should be left to rot, unheard by any but the frigid crown prince.

Foolish.

The third prince sighs as the dense horsehair strings hum beneath his hands. His playing is yet imperfect, but it improves with every chord. The silver picks must be fumbling fingers so long accustomed to silk, but without them, the rough horsehair would dig into his flesh and blister his pretty hands. Questions would be asked that he could not answer. 

The crown prince hums like the great instrument in time to the rise and fall of music, fingers drumming along as if he were the one playing. He knows his zither stands unparalleled.

Although it isn't his anymore.

He buries a satisfied smile into his little fairy’s soft throat. 

Indeed, the only person who still touches the black lacquered gayageum is the delicate third prince. More rightly, it has been his from the beginning even as the crown prince ordered the first designs drawn. Unlike the thin redwood, the black lacquer is the long-wearing instrument of a master, and his brother knows this. The boy sits straight when he plays, crosses his legs properly to support the base, rather than folds them beneath him like a demure maiden. He plucks with surety, unafraid of tearing at his fingers or strings to make the notes resound off the walls, not butterflies but eagles riding the updraft aloft. 

The crown prince listens bewitched, eyes half open to watch the silver fingertips dance. He feels the pull and stretch of the body in his arms as his brother plays from long winding traditional pieces to simple earthy folk songs, just the slightest bit colored by his provincial upbringing.

For that moment he loses himself to the music, to the comfort of his beloved fairy in his arms. He forgets about the emperor's covetous leer that only the crown prince himself, cursed with his father's face, could recognize, about the disgusting hand in his brother's hair. He forgets that his brother is clothed only by a sham of pink gossamer fabric pooling in his lap. He forgets about milking and the young prince's pretty cock, full and heavy from the lack of it.

They shift mid-song, and as he adjusts his embrace to pull them closer, his forearm grazes the heated member. The strings scream as the silver picks bite into them, a dissonant scar across the beautiful song. He feels more than hears the whimper in his brother's throat.

The magic breaks. 

For a long breath neither moved. Then, the crown prince slowly curls his hand around the half-hard length and strokes again. The young prince cries out sharply, having just enough sense left to drag his fingers off the lovely instrument, instead scuffing his beautiful silver picks as he digs channels into the floorboards.

The crown prince draws a breath in wonder. “You really are fond of it, aren't you, my little one?” 

“I...hyung’s gayageum…” the young prince's voice peters out into a moan under another languid stroke up his shaft.

The crown prince presses a smile into his throat and leaves the young prince's cock for now. Instead, he reaches for the plucking hand lifting it to the boy's lap and gently removing each silver pick one by one, setting them aside. He will send them to polish later. 

Kissing the delicate hand, he sets it back on the beautiful gayageum, well away from the rough strings. 

“I shall tell third brother again, I am but the keeper of the instrument, not it's master.” The crown prince cooed in his fairy brother’s ear. “It belongs to him, and he may do with it as he likes.”

He ghosts this hands over the younger prince's straining member once more forcing the boy to scrabble at the instrument supported in his lap. The boy tries to set it down with shaky hands and part his thighs properly, but the crown prince holds him firmly in place.

“Shall we mark it as his, so that he doesn't forget?” 

With a kiss to his brother’s cheek, the crown prince pulls slowly but firmly at the boy's straining cock. With each stroke, he nudges the instrument between the third prince's legs until the weeping cock head smears streaks of clear fluid across the slick lacquered back panel. 

With pick free fingers, the young prince scrabbles at the gayageum, the floorboards, even his brother's own thighs on either side of his. All the while he begged, tears falling like pearls in the candlelight. No, please. He knows. Not the gayageum, not the beautiful crooning gayageum. This humble one could not bear to desecrate something so perfect.

But the crown prince clicks his tongue and only strokes more, his other hand holding the ensemble fast so that the boy couldn't move away. His brother was being a silly thing, holding himself back so. The rich lacquer was thick and flawless, the strings simple to replace, or why would the third prince get to tear at them like he does? What damage? What desecration? What greater honor can a mere instrument have than to be blessed with the essence of a royal son much less child of heaven?

But still, the young prince shakes his head. Tears stream shamelessly down his face as he bites his bottom lip ragged. His muscles are wound so tight they quake with tension. The slightest touch more and they would snap. 

The crown princes pauses, then sighs indulgently and removes his hand from the young prince’s dripping cock, wiping it on what little of the gauzy robe they haven’t yet ruined. When his hands walk up his fairy brother’s skin, they are careful to avoid his most sensitive places, instead, rubbing smooth calming circles into his arms and back. Slowly the young prince inches back from that dangerous edge.

“Do you love it that much?” He says flatly. “It’s only an instrument, Jinyoungie.”

Unable to speak, the third prince only shakes his head again.

The crown prince sneers bitterly, hiding the grimace of his mouth in the third prince’s perfumed hair. Carefully, he lifts the heavy instrument off the third prince’s lap and tosses it aside. Glowering at the offending object one last time, he looks back to where the third prince has slumped over, prone, with his legs spread obscenely open. His hands hovered by the flushed organ, too afraid to touch without the crown prince’s permission.

“If the third prince is still so attached to mere objects,” he says coldly, “then perhaps there is more that this esteemed brother must teach him.” 

Untying his own hair from its top knot, the crown prince wraps his ribbon tightly around the third prince's blushing cock and the straining swell of his balls, knotting a bow just at the underside of the cock head. The third prince whimpers grinding up into his hands and the crown prince lets him for a while, even indulges the swollen member for a few strokes. Even so, his eyes remain cold and calculating, and it's not long before the younger prince shrinks away under it. 

When the third prince seems done, curling into himself like a frightened kitten, the crown prince walks to his wardrobe to fetch an unassuming looking plain wood box that no one but him has laid eyes upon. The crown prince smirks as he sees the way his brother’s eyes track the box warily up until he sets it down right beside the boy. 

The first thing that emerges is a small glass vial of clear oil. It has a pleasantly spicy green scent, herbaceous and foreign that fill the room as soon as it is uncapped. The crown prince rubs a little into his fingers to feel the way it tingles and tempts the skin. It elicits a response as soon as his fingers touch the blushing flower between his fairy brother's thighs, and the young prince thrashes as the herbal oil burns his petals. The crown prince holds him down with one hand while the other applies a second dose of the spiced oil, reaching deep inside the boy's body to where the crux of his pleasure lay. His fingers are practiced, well acquainted with the softest places inside the third prince's graceful form and how best to massage the stinging oil into them.

“This,” he says as his fingers twist against the silky hot flesh, “is a living touch. I move. I learn. I can choose to entreat you.” 

He curls his fingertips just so, making the third prince jolt against him, moaning pitifully.

“Or deny you.” He curls his fingers again, deliberately away from any sensitive spots, instead, massaging gentle circles maddeningly just off of where they were wanted most. The young prince mewed weakly, curling into his brother's chest. The crown prince coos at him like a child, kissing his forehead mockingly.

The next thing he takes from the box is a thick-bodied statue made of cast bronze, the smooth phallus cleverly disguised as a finless fish painted with green and gold scales and a tail that curled upwards in a divot made to perfectly fit a hand. 

The bronze is ice cold when the crown prince touches it and the shock against his skin makes the crown prince smile. Holding it carefully to avoid too much skin contact, he touches the weeping tip of his fairy brother’s pretty cock with the embellished tail. 

The young prince screams. He is breathtaking, unseeing eyes widening like a spooked doe and mouth gasping. His body jerks, thrashing in a way the crown prince has never seen before, so much that the older prince is forced to bodily pin him down, and even then, trapped in his hold, the little prince claws and fights like a cornered animal. The crown prince smirks as he strokes the cold metal up and down the straining member, watching it blush more and more brightly. 

He’s almost tempted to finish the boy off like this. But no, instead the crown prince controls himself. 

The young prince shudders when the crown prince pulls the bronze away. He struggles to breathe, and for a moment, the crown prince wants to wrap his hands around that delicate throat and press him down until his pretty neck is covered in finger-shaped bruises.

To cut off that train of thought, the crown prince instead parts his little fairy’s legs as wide as they will go. Turning the statue in his hand until the point of the head aligned with the young prince’s dripping bud, he spares only a few seconds to coat it in more of the tingling oil before thrusting it inside in one efficient, merciless motion.

The young prince writhes around it.

“This,” the crown prince drawled lazily as he shoves the bronze toy in as far as it will go, “is an object. It is inert. It does not know or care who it fucks. And without the hand of your esteemed brother, it would do nothing at all for you.”

The whimpers that fill his ears are sweetly desperate a beautiful accompaniment to the way his pretty hips grind, trying futilely to both expel the cast bronze and force it deeper in. The crown prince smiles as he pins his brother down once more, leaving the toy there for the pretty fairy’s greedy flower to flutter around. With a sharp smile, he watches until the weary hips slow to weak circles that barely disturb his ever-darkening cock. The young prince’s body is so needy by now that it sucks on the toy by itself, making soft wet sounds that were almost demure. 

The crown prince laughs softly and tests the stretched bud with a blunt nail, receiving only a breathless gasp in return, and quivering thighs opening up in hopes of more attention. He doesn’t comply, instead, running that nail up to the pulsing cock long ago abandoning it’s pretty pink for a sultry red beneath its silk confinement. Despite the ribbon, clear liquid had dewed at its tip and spilled over coating both fabric and flesh.

“Look how wet you are precious one,” the crown prince coos as he presses that nail right up against the weeping slit, teasing even more juices from the organ, “Is it because this esteemed brother has not taught you restraint? Are you so accustomed to indulgence not even being bound could stop you?”

Again, only a breathless gasp.

“Answer me, Jinyoung,” the crown prince crooks his fingers and gave the throbbing red cockhead a sharp pinch, eliciting a piercing squeal from the shivering boy, “so you have a voice still. Enlighten me, third brother, are you so debauched you’ll come with a tied up cock?”

“...Y-yes hyung.” The third prince’s voice is misty, and his eyes once spooked and wide are no more so. Now they glisten becomingly beneath his dark lashes, void and empty. He doesn’t notice the tears that stream from them, only blinking slowly every once in a while when they overfill. “Jinyoung is debauched and indulgent. Jinyoung comes with a tied up c-cock. He…”

The young prince’s own moan interrupts him as the crown prince takes hold of the bronze toy again by its fishtail handle, and begins to thrust it roughly in and out of the young prince’s loose hole.

“Let’s test that shall we?”

The young prince’s mouth falls open. His former moans are replaced by the most delicate little mews as his tender walls are roughly plundered, the pretty little sounds made filthy by the wet little bud sucking on the smooth bronze. The slide of the toy was almost frictionless, the slick flesh welcoming the now warm metal inside with unnatural ease. The crown prince even thinks he could see the shadow of a smile now and again flit over the little fairy’s lips, but that was surely untrue, busy as that pretty mouth was with moaning for more.

But they were wrong. 

The young prince doesn’t come with a bound cock. No matter how darkly his member blushes, how much fluid it weeps or how the desperate body tenses around the toy, the third prince does not come.

They slow sometimes, stop when the boy’s body goes rigid, muscles cording up to try forcibly jerk themselves through the pleasure only to be denied.

“Hyung,” the young prince repeats during these times, mumbling between the crown prince’s kisses tangling up his tongue. “ _Hyung_ , _Hyung_ , Jinyoung is dirty. J-Jinyoung is indulgent. Jinyoung is d-debauched.”   

But whatever he says, the truth is that he _doesn’t_ , and the crown prince marvels.

After the third such time, he pulls the toy completely out despite the weak cry of protest from the young prince’s lips. 

“After all, third brother is yet a treasure,” he sighs, thrusting three fingers inside to stir up the loose wet hole, “a creature too refined and noble by half for his mortal brother’s machinations.”

“Hyung...hyung, please.”

“He needs a living man after all.”

With deft fingers, the crown prince pulls at the wet knot, undoing the drenched ribbon that had bitten in and left pretty pretty stripes of color on young prince’s tortured crimson cock. The boy whimpers as the fabric slides away but settles down obediently while the Crown Prince tugs him over to the fallen zither, propping his pliant body over it on hands and knees. Quickly, his esteemed brother disrobes and slicks up his own straining member with the tingling oil hissing at the pleasant burn. With little fanfare, he thrusts sharply into the boy's tender gaping entrance.

The young prince hiccups, but his body accept the dense cock easily. He grinds back onto it shameless without bidding.

The Crown Prince groans but chuckles softly at his little fairy’s lack of control. He kneads at the taut mounds of flesh as he fucks callously into the spasming flower at the core of the young prince’s body, sometimes trailing a hand down to pet his quaking thighs and the pretty pretty cock that makes the boy jerk away from his hand. Oh, how the lovely thing must _ache_. 

When the third prince can finally stand his touch, the Crown Prince wraps his hand around the red member stroking to match the rhythm of his thrust.

The third prince bears only three before he chokes on his own moans and shatters. He breaks in waves, each crest of pleasure sending his prone form into violet shudders around his brother's cock. Every burst of white that ebbs is replaced with another greater one. He writhes so that the crown prince must brace him with an arm lest he falls upon wood and horsehair and mar his perfect skin. 

It is enough, even for the insatiable Crown Prince who neatly forgets his own cock save to use it to pound more whimpers, more tears, more essence from his beloved fairy. 

“Is this to your pleasure, little prince?” he murmurs sweet and low, “Oh, beautiful, heavenly, tempting creature. On what immortal mountain grows the flower that bears such succulent fruit?”

“Jinyoung is...Jinyoung is…”

“Jinyoung is beautiful, peerlessly so. Jinyoung is a _treasure_ beyond compare upon this mortal earth.”

“Hyung…”

“Jinyoung does not need _things_. There is nothing in this realm this brother will not provide. He has to but speak, and his brother will serve him.”

“Please…” 

The white of the young prince's seed drips all over the beautiful gayageum, covers it. Only then is the Crown Prince satisfied, finding his own release inside his brother's accepting body.

The young prince speaks now only in soft little noises at the back of his throat. The Crown Prince smiles and swallows them in a perversely chaste kiss. He cradles the limp form into his arms and carries his little fairy to the bath. 

“Worry not about your pretty toy,” he says soothingly, stroking soft scented soaps through the boy's long silky tresses, “my Youngjae will call in cleaners come morning.”

The young prince mews as the gentle fingers massaged his scalp. If he hears the words, he does not quite understand them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm anticipating this question, lol let me say that any interpretation you have of the royal situation is correct. This is the one thing I will not clarify. It's just a matter of how messed up you think it is.
> 
> For people more people interested in the casting call
> 
> Yes, Youngjae is Jaebeom's servant/messenger/the person who conducts Jinyoung to him every night
> 
> Mark is the second prince, older but born to a concubine so he's behind Jaebeom who is legit but before Jinyoung who isn't. He hasn't been involed yet, I just thought you'd like to know. Intelligent, but not ambitious. Friendly, but not super sociable, which makes his seat of power not as stable and less likely to be threatening to Jaebeom. 
> 
> Jackson and the 97s are wandering around somewhere LOL
> 
> I haven't really given the emperor any kind of character, but I also won't stop you if you want to imagine JYP

**Author's Note:**

> Jinyoung totally tested his limits on purpose, let's not kid ourselves here lol


End file.
